Sex on the Beach
by MrTicklepaws
Summary: Oh, Worth. Will you ever be a nice person and have a happy life? No? Okay. This fic is set after Night in the Lonesome October and before Wrench. Hann'apocalypse is Desdemona Kakalose. I am merrily riding her coattails. Hinabn is Tessa Stone.


The ocean had a different sort of quality to it at night. Well, beaches did, anyway. Worth wasn't feeling like wandering in the waves while the moon was out.

Besides, he thought, stretched out on his back on the sand, hands crossed behind his head, they'd already had their fill of swimming earlier when it was warmer out. As it was, Worth was now as clean as one could get and feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks. Nice thing about southern California in the fall - not too hot that you wanted to kill yourself, but not too cold to keep your ass off the beach.

He looked at the sky, stupid bright now that city light pollution had been obliterated. Waves were washing over sand, a constant but somehow not-annoying ebb and flow of sound as they slowly wore away at the shore. Hanna had made his way into the RV with the zombie, looking for food of some sort. He'd said "s'mores" but Worth was sure there was no way in hell they were going to have any of those. They didn't exactly can marshmallows and graham crackers.

The crunch of feet on sand alerted him to Conrad's approach. He could feel the vampire hovering behind him, probably still half asleep, and Worth continued to stare at the waning moon above.

"You pick the stupidest places."

"Didn't pick this one, sweetheart. Take it up with management."

There was a huff above him, and then the shift of grains as Conrad plopped down beside Worth. He looked over at Conrad, seeing his profile in the low light, and the glint of fang as he spoke. "I feel like a yo-yo. The waves are pulling me in and pushing me back out and it smells of salt everywhere." Green flashed as Conrad's head and gaze turned over towards Worth. "You actually don't stink for once, but you still smell salty."

Worth read the line of Conrad's spine, the set of shoulders, the scowl and mildly distant look in his eyes. Cranky sourpuss to anyone else; slightly frightened, or at least rather unsettled in Conrad's language. He hummed, then looked back up at the stars. "Well, guess I'm gonna have ter plan on somethin' else if yer so down on the beach, love."

"Should I even ask? No, no I shouldn't, but, as usual," he sighed, "what?"

"Well, y'know. Figured I'd deflower ya on th' beach. Take a nice long walk someplace quiet, jus' you 'n' me, 'n' th' waves. Maybe Barry White singin' as we get down ter business. Real romantic like."

"God," Conrad snorted. "In case you have forgotten, Barry White died long before the rest of the world."

"Yeah, so it makes it a lot easier ter obtain his services, don't it? 'Course," Worth glanced at Conrad from the corner of his eye, taking in the slight relaxing of shoulders, "I'm gonna note ya ain't said no ter a midnight romp. That th' way ya want it? Sex on th' beach?"

"Ugh, _no_. All I can picture is getting dizzy, not knowing what's touching what and getting sand in places I really don't want it." He shook his head, tilted it back to take in the smattering of stars above. "What is with you, anyway? Do you actually keep a notebook listing various ways you somehow think you're going to _deflower_ me as you keep putting it?"

"Fuck naw, I got a good memory. Don't need ter write this shit down." Looking down at his feet, toes audibly cracking as he attempted to wiggle them, he spoke again. "'Course, ya done turned down every one o' my romantic lovemakin'-"

"Oh God, did you really just say "_lovemaking_"? _Really_?"

"-lovemakin' offers," he finished. "So, fine. Yer jus' gonna have ter tell me how ya want it."

"You can't be serious."

"As a heartattack, darlin'."

It was quiet again, save for the whoosh of water and the occasional sound from the RV parked on the crumbling asphalt behind them.

"Okay then," Conrad finally started, slowly, as if tasting each word for the right seasoning before giving them to Worth. "Supposing you're serious...The beach would not be my choice, no. And neither would a prison, nor a tent in the woods, or the bar at the annual treaty celebration."

"Now, ter be fair, ya were kinna slumped over 'n' givin' me bedroom eyes."

"Worth, I was drunk."

"Ya said I looked rugged."

"And, if I recall correctly, I also mentioned using your face as a back scratcher."

"Yeah, figured that meant ya wanted me ter top ya from b'hind."

"_Worth_."

"_Connie_."

"I am going to knock you out if you don't shut up."

"Oooh, yer comin' on ter me right now, ain'tcha? I knew this whole beach thing'd get ya worked up 'n' ready ter go." Beside him, Conrad made a frustrated howl and Worth chuckled. "But if Barry ain't gonna do it fer ya, 'n' yer worried 'bout sand in yer special parts, I kin always grab a blanket 'n' get that GoGo woman ter sing instead."

"One," the bridge of Conrad's nose was pinched, the action of his hand pushing his glasses up his face, "I am not about to get sheets that I sleep in full of sand. Two, I am terrifyingly able to translate most of what you say, and am going to correct you by saying Lady GaGa, not GoGo, and...wait, how do you even know Lady GaGa, anyway?"

"Wot? She's yer patron saint, ain't she? Was? Dunno." One of Worth's hands slipped out from beneath his head to scratch at his prominent collarbone. "Did she smoke?"

"I don't know. I didn't pay attention. I was into other artists more than, you know what? Why are we even discussing this? Are you even serious?"

"'Cause I'm takin' an interest in th' fine art o' Conrad Canoodlin'. Already covered most a what oughter work. I'm startin' ter have a hard time comin' up with other ideas."

"You know what? The day you take this seriously is the day I may actually think about it."

There was a sudden uptick in the wet, pumping rhythm in Worth's chest. "Who says I ain't serious?"

"Me? You? The sun and the moon and stars above?" Whoops. Conrad seemed to be getting agitated, and not exactly in the way Worth had been expecting. The vampire was frowning down at him, shoulders up by his ears. "Believe it or not, Worth, it fucking matters to me. I'm not going to sit here and play some stupid game with you when it's something I give a shit about. Every time I start to think that you-you know what? How about this?" He was leaning now, eyes tight at the corners. "The day you actually give a shit and realize the importance of-" his fingers formed quotations- "_deflowering_ me, then maybe I'll actually discuss it because maybe-"

Words stopped abruptly. Worth stared, watched as Conrad waged some sort of internal battle, crimson eyes hidden from view. Worth swallowed. Conrad took an unnecessary breath. "No. Done. Conversation over. Going back to the camper." With that, Conrad pushed himself to his feet, traipsing back the way he had come, growling over his shoulder. "Talk to me when you can actually comprehend what you're asking me. If you can ever comprehend it."

Worth was left with the sound of the waves and a sour taste in the back of his mouth.


End file.
